Riddle Chronicles: A Teenage Voldemort
by Glaceregina
Summary: Voldemort can't be all THAT evil, can he? Or maybe he can. But then, if he's terrible now, what will he be like when he's also constantly battling girls, Gryffindors and Evil Dumbledore in a place where killing things isn't accepted?


**Riddle Chronicles: A Teenage Voldemort**

**A/N: I wrote this whole story when I was 12, so please excuse any mistakes that are in there, as I don't want to edit/rewrite it now because that would be weird (to me). Actually, reading through it again… it all sounds weird to me. Maybe I'll just delete it. Cheers.**

_**Monday, 1st September, 1942**_

I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Sr., (filthy muggle that he is) grandson of Marvolo Gaunt and (most importantly) last remaining heir of Salazar Slytherin, Greatest of Hogwarts Four. (Don't deny it!)

Speaking of Hogwarts, I am currently riding on the train, Hogwarts Express, in an empty compartment, at the back, alone. After all, those pathetic fools that call themselves students know better than to disturb me.

Hmmm… those idiotic girls are hanging around my compartment again. I can hear their giggling and smell their disgustingly horrendous stink that they call 'perfume'. Honestly! I can absolutely not understand their infatuation with me. Whatever it may be, it is very annoying and I shall continue my research on how to stop this particular phenomenon. It is very distur

This is certainly strange. Just as I was figuring how to, ah, _dispose_ shall I say, of these female nuisances, someone did it for me. A girl with a hell of a lot more sense to be precise. Their interaction, I believe, went something along the lines of this:

Idiotic Girls:

"Giggle, giggle, I think he just looked at me! Aren't his blue eyes gooorgeeeous! (No, I am not being arrogant, they really said that.) Voices get louder "And the way his hair just has that elegant wave!" Left eardrum is starting to throb from the volume of voices "He's just soooo (whatever that means) cu-" At this point, they are cut off abruptly

Female Savior: (as I now dub her in absence of name):

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" (Merlin, I swear, females are so blunt some times. Sure, the gigglers were loud and all that, but if a guy said that, he'd be missing some important parts of his body.)

Idiotic Girls:

"Ugh- just what do you want- hey, you're new!" (See? Again with the bluntness.)

Female Savior:

"No shit Sherlock! (Huh? What or who's that?) " Good to know you have a brain among you, clones." (ARRGH! The sheer BLUNTNESS of it all! Then again, the 'Female Savior' does have a point, they even talk the same…) "Go on-Shoo!"

So after shoving the protesting Idiotic Girls aside, Female savior nonchalantly strode in my compartment, (She actually _invaded _my compartment!) and sat down.

I shall now conduct research over this new information.

Some points I have picked up over said information:

1) Girls are blunt-

Oh _shut up_ Zemesisea! Or I will switch my writing to something other than parcelhand! And you won't be able to understand because you're a snake, so- Zem! That was a very bad thing to say! But lie closer to the folds of my robes, lest Female Saviour see you.

Continuing on…:

2)If they want something, they will eventually get that something

3)There are female equivalents of Crabbe and Goyle, dumb and dumber.

4)They have the capability to be very vindictive

Of course, I am not saying that my fellow males are in any way lacking cruel creativity. (Though something could be said of Crabbe and Goyle) No, what I am saying is that females seem to have a particular flair…something to consider. Perhaps I should consider recruiting them in to my, ah, circle of friends and allies, it would indeed be another step towards my goal…muahahahahaha…

While on the subject of females, my eyes left the page and wondered of to my companion of the train ride, charming my quill to record the thoughts I sent to it.(Quite a complicated spell but nothing I, as a sixth grader, couldn't manage.) Even the rational side of me has to agree with my teenage hormones, she _is _beautiful-

Would you _please_ stop laughing Zem? Your body is vibrating and it tickles. Oh haha, Zem, but never fear! I have an excuse! I'm a hormone ridden teenager, and what are you? An adult aren't you?

She has a small but strong build (5ft? 5ft 3?) that is complimented with well developed curves which Malfoy would surely drool over. (Who for all his money and high status, has no sense of propriety, no idea of proper and appropriate courting.)

But, although many boys would declare me insane, I think it is her face, not her body that holds true beauty. Her face, (I know this sounds extraordinarily cliché, but.) looks like that of an angel, goddess, divine being.

Her large eyes are slightly slanted and are framed with long golden thick lashes which made her seem like the classic bimbo but the depth and wisdom of those eyes soon dispelled that particular thought. These emerald orbs shine with a great knowledge and a quiet determination but on the same token, I see a haunted sadness which was not visible when she got rid of the Idiotic Girls, a fire having been present in those verdant jewels, which is for some reason, giving me the urge to see her cry, to see rivers of liquid diamond, streaming from those viridian orbs, which-

-just happen to be staring back right at me.

_**Monday, 1st September, 10:15**_

Earlier today, on the train, she caught me staring at her with surprise. I, having been so focused on her eyes, had not noticed that her attention had drifted away from her rather thick book and on to me. I felt a pink flush creep up to my cheeks, much to my mortification. Her blood- red lips curved in to a smirk.

"So, azure eyes-of-the-sky, do you have a name?" She asked mockingly. "I am Ceredelta Athene Mithras" she added in a smooth, contralto voice, holding out her hand, obviously expecting it to be shaken. I raised an eyebrow even as a wrestled with my shame of being caught.

If that was how she wanted to play, fine. I clasped hair small, dainty, white hand, bent over and brushed my lips against her smooth, unmarred skin. I then straightened, look her in the eye and said, "I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. Pleasure. "She copied me and, too, raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow. We stared intently at each other, determined not to look away, her hand still in mine. Then she threw her head back and laughed melodiously, her face breaking in to a genuine smile.

I felt an odd satisfaction at being the cause. Strange.

She ended her laughter, still smiling joyously, and pulled me over to sit next to her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you to," she informed me sincerely. Using legillimency, I could detect no falsehood in her voice. Or maybe she was an expert occlumens. With my guard still up I spoke, carefully ensuring I was insinuating nothing of importance.

"Ceredelta Athene Mithras. Such an exotic and striking moniker. Ah, and you have my thanks for ridding us of them." I gestured with my hand toward the place that the girls were before. She laughed understandingly, and gazed at my robes, assessing my appearance.

"I see you are in the House of Lord Slytherin. I have read of it in the letter I was given by way of greeting. Cunning and ambitious. As someone who has been here for quite a long time-What is it like?" she questioned, her eyes gleaming with a keen interest. So, she had decided to move of the introductions and straight in to the information and intelligence gathering. This was an opportunity to test her, perhaps? Or was she testing me?

I tilted my head in a gesture of invitation and acceptance-for now. I could feel my lips curving up a fraction.

"Ah, yes," I began. My eyes looked down and held her glorious gaze. "Ssslyyythuuurinnn." I drew the word out lazily, as a snake might indulgently reach worldly awareness from a lengthy, luxurious sleep.

"Slytherin is the most worthy house of Hogwarts Four." I decided to stick with common opinion in favour of expressing my, ah, less than innocent beliefs.

"But," I continued, "Perhaps I am a bit biased. However, I must warn you, if you do happen to ever grace the serpent's lair with your breathtaking presence, Slytherin is a prideful house." I paused.

She inclined her head slightly, an incitement for me to continue.

"If your show pride in everything you do and do not cause strife-"

Both eyebrows went up at this.

"-well, not very much anyway," I conceded, my voice tinged with amusement, "with some careful manoeuvring, Slytherin will work well with you."

I decided to throw my plans to avoid my true opinions out the window. As long as I was still cautious, it would be okay. Besides, I was really starting to enjoy this.

" On the other hand, if you go out your way to cause unpleasantness, and seek to sully our house's name, you will find that your stay here may either be quite awful, or short." I spoke seriously, all traces of humour gone. I looked deep into her eyes, to see if she understood. She did, she was no longer smirking.

"And I take it that you will be one of the ones to punish me if I do cause dissension?" Her voice was wary.

I gave a brief nod. "Even if were not my duty (And there go the plans. I can almost hear the window opening) I would. It would be prudent for you to accept that I have quite an amount of concern where it comes to the pride of my house."

I lifted my chin challengingly, daring her to counter me. She stared at me, her eyes searching, piercing. Then with an almost sad uplift of her lips, an understanding passed between us.

Well, after that, we both had no idea what to say. So we both solved the idea by simply not saying anything. We sat in a comfortable silence, leaving each other to our respective thoughts.

Later on however, as the sun painted the azure sky that apparently was the same shade as my eyes magnificent hues of orange and crimson, a question did pose in my mind. A question that should have formed almost effective immediately after I first saw her.

"Why are you here? You are most certainly not a first year."

She looked at me, eyes sharply focusing. "I had to move to England." She replied. There was a slight, _almost_ undiscernible edge to her voice. She would make a good Slytherin. Then, feeling she had to explain more, she continued, this time in a normal voice. (Make that an excellent Slytherin.) "Besides, I wanted to see Hogwarts for myself after reading of its splendour."

Merlin, she even managed a smirk! So it was no surprise to me when the sorting hat shouted 'SLYTHERIN!' as it lay on her golden haired head. No, what was a surprise was, in our conversation, not once did she ask about my purity of blood.

_**Friday, 5th September**_

Grr! I will NOT have Del beating me in class, no matter how pretty she is. Or anybody else for that matter. I shall beat them all!

…

…something's missing.

…

…Muahahahahahahaha!

That's better.

_**Saturday, 6th September**_

Like any good Heir of Slytherin, I started to train myself in the dark arts years ago, ever since I discovered my heritage.

There was little satisfaction to be gained from turning a table into a pig, or hexes to make peoples hair fall out. Though that time I wandlessly made that sneering, ostentatious ass Alphonse Malfoy's painstakingly smoothed hair drop out in large clumps when he insulted me left me full of content. Petty, I know. But justified. The ponce wouldn't look anyone in the eye for weeks!

Back too my original point, it was inevitable that I turned too something far more greater, far more complex and intriguing, something that held _true power_…The sweet, luscious taste of such raw dominance over the various dark curses and the _control_…Gods, it sent me reeling…a vast influx of _wild magic_ searing, flowing out of my hands, doing exactly as I commanded…

Yes, and I am very proud to say that I am quite accomplished in the art of darkness, though I acknowledge there is such a plethora sinister and shady magics in the world…I am not fool enough to believe that I have mastered even a complete millionth of it, by saying that I am quite accomplished I mean that I have grasped the base concepts and can now learn anything and everything.

Heh, heh, art of darkness, dark arts, dark of artness-whoa, getting off track there.

Now! On to more important matters! Like Quidditch!

Yes, contrary to the popular belief that I am not well versed in the sport- which is incredibly stupid seeing as I am a seeker on the Slytherin team, though it may have something to do with the fact that I don't ramble incessantly about Quidditch 24/7, like some people I could name. Because, is it even possible not to like the game? Yes, Zem, that _is_ a rhetorical question.

I know that Flint is the captain this year, he's been the captain ever since my fourth year (he's now in seventh) but I have plans that involve my being captain, and I will make sure that I am captain next year.

_**Wednesday, 17th September**_

Whoa! Two and a half weeks gone already. And yes, I have regained my rightful place as top of the class. (I am not being arrogant, It's the solid truth!)

Del-Ceredelta-Argh! For some very annoying reason that I am yet to discover, I have trouble remaining formal and proper with her.

Proper? Perhaps it is time for an elaboration on my words in my second entry.

You see, upon the point that the hat belts out "SLYTHERIN!" while on your head, you are immediately classified 'the enemy' by three quarters of the student body. And from that moment on, you will have to learn to fend from the dark glares and occasional jinx/hex/curse from stuck up, self-righteous Gryffindors (and they call 'us' evil!) looks of fear and predjudice from incompetent pathetic Hufflepuffs (actually, those looks are quite amusing) and-well-

Okay, fine, I lied, _half_ of the student body classify us 'the enemy'. The Ravenclaws are a bit of-what's the term? Ah-yes- wild card. Yes, those smart studious ones of the school have actually got brains (hence said adjectives of intelligence) and can see beyond there own borders-something no Gryffindor or Hufflepuff has managed to achieve.

The Ravenclaws can go two ways.

One, they can side with the majority (danm traitors)

Two, they can be neutrals (Good Ravenclaws…)

Well, now that I think of it, there are actually three ways, but the third is so rare, it's not classified. The Ravenclaws, can side with us. (Very, good Ravenclaws…)

Hmm…how strange. Since when have I been referring to inanimate objects as 'You" Maybe Del-Ceredelta is right, the stress of school, quiditch practice, prefect duties and the running of Slytherin House in general-seeing as those incompetent 7th graders just don't have my touch, and I am the Heir- has confounded my brain.

_**Tuesday 29th September**_

CONFOUNDED! What the hell am I thinking! I can't be confounded! I'm too brilliant! I must be really confounded to think I'm canfoun-wait a minute-

waits one minute

Contradicting myself! What the…I must be really confounded to contradict-grrr!

**_Thursday 15th October_**

Found a tasty little curse...

**"Slaughtem Introverta": **

**Movement-** downward vertical slash

**Colour-** Blackduobeam

**Effect- **Internal organs are attacked slowly, as its life blood mutates into acid. An interesting note is that the organs themselves do not actually begin decomposition as this particular curse is only an hallution, a complex magical field that makes the feeling so real that the victim will truly believe that the pain is there, so it virtually has the same effect as if it truly was happening.

This is borderline unforgivable, a variation of the cruciatus, if you will. Exorbitant in the pain it causes, there is a price to pay, as casting such a spell will drain a significant portion of one's magical reserves.

Ah, the dark arts….so beautiful, yet so heavily oppressed. Even just reading about it I can already taste the faint singing of it's sweet, seductive power…anticipate the sheer thrill of the forbidden…there truly is no good or evil, only power, and those to weak to see it.

Among the dark recesses of the less vaunted sections of Hogwarts library, I catch a few voices. I recognize that one of the voices and its echoing footsteps…slowly increasing in volume as my carefully honed ears detect its approach. It appears that Malfoy (for no-one else has the self-satisfied strut of a Malfoy) is about to discover my little hideout. How bothersome.

Well, I do need a test subject…

_**Saturday 31st October**_

Argh! Curse you Dumbledore…! Now if only I could do that literally…ah the possibilities…

That irritating man has _somehow _gotten wind of my certain fondness of the Dark Arts, and is now keeping an even closer watch on me. If I didn't know better I'd almost say that he was a closet pervert!-no I don't want to examine those possibilities. One day, however, one day I will have the extreme pleasure of having that omniscient bastard killed…one of my favourite daydreams. Beware Dumbledore; I _will_ make it a reality. (for doubtless he will become an even greater annoyance as he ages.)

On to less morbid and unsanitary topics. Today is The Day. What I mean is, it is Halloween, an excellent day for rituals and all sorts of ceremonies. There is a particular ritual I have been meaning to test, nothing too dark or Dumbledore will have my head (possibly literally. Anything's possible with that crackpot old fool.) More like a small taste of greater things. Things which my classmates-house members?-acquaintances..? Minions. Things that my minions could never understand. They could never rise out of their small meaningless lives gossiping over pink bits of paper; obviously a Dumbledore device of world domination. Then again, he is on the light side. He knows nothing of true evil. Hold on, what are those sheets-

Ah, let me take that back and express my sudden change of understanding. Ye gods, will that man stop at nothing to destroy me! There is a dance tonight! No wonder everyone is so excited. Excited…Ah no, here come the girls. Now for the great escape-

Escaped unscathed and am now safe in my dormitory. Thank Merlin for quick reflexes and a will to live.

_**Same day, 6:30**_

And ha! This is more proof that Dumbledore is capable of inordinate amounts of evil! I can't decide what's more evil, the fact that he has out-eviled my evilness, or this. That meddling old coot has decided that all prefects must attend this accursed-accursed-gathering of depressingly _happy_ zoophytes that couldn't hold an intelligent conversation even if it bit them on the arse. Why did I have to become a bloody prefect?

Thus, I conclude that I shall now commence a search for a suitable partner. Or hide under my bed.

_**7:00**_

Well fate's a bitch. Del just asked me to the dance and I couldn't say no without offending her. And with that, all chances of plan 'hide under bed' working are destroyed. I will now go and drink some firewhisky to give it a decent send off (and quite possibly embolden my spirits in the face of Dumbledore evil.)

**A/N: I had an ending to this story, but I don't think I can bear to type it. Maybe after a few shots of whisky…**

**Kudos and cookies to all who could stand reading it. Thanx! "grins"**


End file.
